The Lone Survivors
by Little Rachael
Summary: Rufus and Arngrim reminisce during the holidays. SPOILERS for VP2.


Snow.

Rufus could remember the first time he had seen snow. It had been right after escaping from the Forest of Spirits. Just a faint bit of snow had begun to fall: soft, white flakes coming softly down onto the ground, only to disappear on contact. He had never imagined anything could be so beautiful.

Once it came in great quantities, however, another thing became clear: Snow was _cold._ It was fun to play with, but it was cold and wet and it soaked one's clothing and skin. It really was just frozen water.

As he stared out of the tavern window, Rufus wondered just how many Midgardians spent their Christmas nights like this. He could see a few unpleasant-looking fellows drinking more slowly than they would in the summer, trying to prolong their stays as much as possible. He felt bad for them. At least he had a place to stay tonight.

"Hey," shouted the next customer who came through the door, "gimme a hot apple cider."

Rufus looked up and smiled. "Hey, fancy meeting you here." He glanced over his shoulder and added, "Me too, an apple cider, please," ignoring the snickers from some of the regulars at this odd fellow who used the word "please."

Arngrim looked down and beamed. "Rufus!" he shouted, making the half-elf wince. "What brings you here?"

Rufus gestured at the empty chair across from him. "Sit. You feel like reminiscing?"

Arngrim was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

The two men stared blankly at each other as they waited for their apple ciders. It wasn't until they had both been served that Rufus finally blurt out, "I can't believe it's almost been a year."

Arngrim nodded gruffly, taking a sip of his drink before cringing. "_Ow_. Damn. I always forget how freakin' hot they make these."

Rufus grinned and blew into his. "You've always been awfully rash."

"Always? You speak as if you've known me for years."

"Feels like it." Rufus sighed. "You, Dylan, Silmeria…Alicia…" His voice grew soft at her name. "You were my first friends. Even though I knew about the importance of our mission, I was so happy." He peered into his drink, then looked up and smiled. "It was fun, wasn't it?"

Arngrim grunted. "It was just another day in the life of a mercenary for me."

"Awww, you're so bad at covering up your real feelings," Rufus teased. "I saw the way you gently looked at Alicia, and how you even tolerated having Dylan around. If mercenaries really are only in it for the money—as you pointed out so many times—then wouldn't it have been better if you had traveled alone?"

He took another swig of his cider. "I said it was just another day in the life of a mercenary…I didn't say I didn't have fun while it lasted."

"…We're the only ones left, you know." Rufus' voice had become serious once more. "I mean…Dylan's gone. Leone never _was_. The valkyries were returned to sleep. And Alicia…" His voice broke slightly.

"Yeah." Anrgrim's voice was quiet. "It's weird, isn't it? I mean…These people have no idea how close they came to losing everything. Their homes, their lives, their _world_. And yet they just keep on living as they did before. Kind of pisses you off, doesn't it?"

"A little." A smile. "But…Since they're acting just the same as usual, I guess it means we succeeded. After all, if it has been a couple of other poor, lonely men, wouldn't we be just as oblivious?"

"I suppose so." Arngrim sighed. "You really hit it on the head. Just a couple of poor, lonely men, with nothing to show for our efforts."

"Aww, come on, Arngrim. It's not like you to get all gloomy."

"I guess…But you know, it's been hard for me, too." Another sigh. "And you're the only one I can tell this to, but…I really miss everyone."

"Yeah. It's…It's not just Alicia I miss, you know. It's everyone. Silmeria, Brahms, even Hrist and Lenneth. It seemed almost like we were family, you know? But it's over now. And it's…" His voice broke again and his vision blurred with tears. "It's so damn lonely!"

Arngrim nodded, choosing not to say anything.

"I…I try to move on. For these past few months, I've done so much. I've tried to get along with everyone. I've tried to remind myself of how much worse it could have been. I even remind myself that's what she wanted—for us to live in a new world where people would be free from the gods. Where we could be happy on our own." Wiping his eyes, he looked back up at Arngrim. "Are you happy?"

"That's…" He shrugged. "That's a tough question. I can't really say I've ever been _happy_. I'm alive, though. Isn't that all any of us can say?"

"Yeah." Smiling again, Rufus held up his mug. "So, how about a toast?"

"A toast." Arngrim shrugged. "Yeah, sure." He raised his mug as well. "To…Midgard."

"To Midgard. And to us, a couple of poor, lonely men—the sole survivors of an incident that almost destoyed humanity."

"Ha, ha. Cheers."

"Merry Christmas."

"Yeah. Merry Christmas."

Their glasses clinked together. Outside, the snow continued to fall. And as the evening turned to night, two lonely souls, both still searching for answers in a world that had almost ended, found solace in each other's company.


End file.
